Harry Potter and the Warlock's calling
by Shadowface
Summary: Chapter Five is up! Post OOTP, Harry discovers his heritage and gains in magic. DISCONTINUED.
1. Questions

Disclaimer: Do I look like I own _Harry Potter_?! Yes, you say? No I Don't! J.K. Rowling owns _Harry Potter_ and I have used these characters without permission and for the sole purpose of enjoyment; I make no money.

**_Prologue_**

On June 5th it rained. The streets were oddly empty, except for one car slowly making its way down the street. The driver turned and glared at the backseat's occupant: "Are you sure it's this way boy?"

The boy nodded and pointed, "It's right there."

The driver looked around and saw nothing. "Are you sure?"

Again the boy nodded and said, "You can drop me off here. I'll send the letters every three days so that they don't bother you."

"See that you do" was the terse reply. The car stopped and the trunk popped open. "Hurry up and don't get the trunk wet."

The boy left the car, closing the door behind him. He went to the back of the car and removed his things. He set them down on the sidewalk next to the car and went back to the door: "This is goodbye forever." He nodded at the car's other occupants grabbed the cage from the middle seat and closed the door, this time locking it. He was free.

Some one knocking on the door startled Tom, the innkeeper, from his nap. He jumped up from his seat by the fire and opened the door; a very wet young man stood there and smiled.

"Hello," he said. "Do you have an extra room?"

**_Chapter one_**

Harry was wandering around Diagon Alley. He had woken up from his not so restful sleep to the desire to walk the alley. He felt as if he were looking for something, but he didn't know what.

He stopped at the signpost denoting the particular sector of the alley he was in and gazed about, searching. His eyes fell on the faded gold letters of the Ollivanders Wand shop and he was overcome with the urge to enter, so he did.

The bell above the door rang as Harry walked in. He looked around: the shop hadn't changed at all in the six years since he had last entered. He sat down in the chair and waited.

"I was wondering when I'd see you again, Mr.Potter."

The voice startled Harry and he jumped out of the chair. "Hello," he said politely to the slightly stooped man. "I…I don't know why I'm here"

Ollivander smiled. "You came for a wand."

Harry looked at him confusedly. "I already have one though."

Again the old man smiled. "Your wand needs a mate."

Harry just looked at him, trying to process what he had just heard.

Seeing the younger man's confusion Ollivander elaborated: "All the powerful Warlocks have two wands and every wand has a mate." He paused. "I seem to recall that you were quite the tricky customer. The core of your wand limits the number of choices and there are only so many wands with a phoenix core, so that narrows the number of wands possible considerably—that, doubled by the fact that the phoenix who donated your core was an ancient, splits the choice by half." He paused, gazing amused at Harry's confusion. "That makes the number of choices around two hundred wands."

"Two hundred?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Indeed."

"What did you mean by 'all warlocks have two wands'?"

"I said, 'All _powerful_ warlocks have two wands,' and you are undoubtedly a powerful warlock."

Harry doubted it, but he decided to go along with it for now. But something was confusing him: "What's a warlock?"

Ollivander gazed at him, surprised. "No one has ever told you?"

"Told me what?"

"Told you about your family, about your _Families_."

"What do you mean?"

Ollivander looked shocked. "No one's ever told him." Harry looked at the old man confusedly as he mumbled to himself. He waited for a few minutes before interrupting the old man's thoughts. "What did you mean?"

Ollivander seemed to collect himself. He looked as if he was on the verge of bursting and he said to Harry, "Stay here for a bit." With that he turned and disappeared into the back of the shop.

Ollivander almost ran to the fireplace, lit the fire with an incantation, threw in the floo powder, and shouted, "Dumbledore's Summerhouse." He then stuck his head into the fire and waited. He called out, "Albus! Get down here NOW!" He watched the door open and took satisfaction in seeing the other looking ashamed.

"What is it Marik?"

Ollivander snarled, "Do you know who is in my shop at this moment?"

"No, Who?"

"HARRY JAMES EVANS BLACK-POTTER, AND DO YOU KNOW WHY?"

Dumbledore was definitely looking ashamed but he also looked curious. "Why?"

"TO GET HIS WAND A MATE AND HE DIDN'T EVEN KNOW IT!!!"

Dumbledore looked shocked, "But a wizard hasn't required a mate for his wand in more than 300 years."

Ollivander looked at him scathingly. "With all of his family connections, how could he not? He's the heir ofthree houses and you weren't even aware that it was a possibility? You didn't even explain to him that it might be possible."

Dumbledore was looking decidedly uncomfortable. "Uh…it never came up."

Ollivander looked even angrier, if possible. He lowered his voice to a dangerous whisper "Why didn't you explain it to him when you told him about his family?"

The other man remained silent, and Ollivander had no problem interpreting his silence: "Do you mean to say that the boy has no knowledge of his own blood?" Dumbledore could see the rage in the wand maker's eyes.

"Um…well, you see…there was really no time—" He was cut off.

"Albus we will discuss this later. Right now I am going to tell that boy about his family—families—and then I will tell the boy why his wand is in need of a mate, and for now on you will hide nothing more from him. Is that clear?"

Dumbledore nodded quickly and watched as the man's head disappeared from his fire. He had not planned on telling Harry about his family until the boy graduated from school, but if Harry needed another wand, then Dumbledore was more than happy to let Marik tell the tale. He shuddered as he recalled the wand maker's anger and it was then that he realized that he should probably worry about their upcoming "talk."

Back in the front room of Ollivanders shop, Harry was getting nervous. "_What did he mean by warlock? And why do I need two wands? And why_…."

The young man's thoughts were interrupted by the older man's reentry. Harry jumped out of the spindly chair and asked quickly, "Mr. Ollivander, what's a warlock? I've heard it used before, sir."

Ollivander looked at him for a moment before replying. Harry was a bit unnerved by the way Ollivander seemed to be considering him and was startled when the old man started speaking.

"Call me Marik, and if it's all right I'll call you Harry." He waited for Harry's nod of affirmation and continued, "Since it's obvious that you know nothing about your families, or apparently even about your name or even about our kind, I will explain everything." Seeing that Harry was about to ask a question he answered before the young man could even open his mouth, "And I'll explain the need for two wands…. Do you want to get your wand first or do you want me to tell you your story?"

Harry considered. "Which will take longer?"

"The story."

Harry nodded, "I…I need the wand; you can tell me my story after, okay?"

Ollivander nodded and smiled. "The blood is strong in you." He then walked to the shelf closest to them. "All right, let's try this one."

A/N: What's a warlock? What wand will he have? What's with the lengthened name? Find out in the next chapter! Please Read and Review!


	2. Answers

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, I make no money from this fan fiction though it would be cool if I did.  However, it would be morally wrong, and so I write this for just pure enjoyment (mine and maybe yours).  J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter.

The hours dragged by and Harry was getting tired from sitting in one place for so long.  He gazed out the window.  _I hope Hedwig is okay._  He hid his yawn as Mr. Ollivander handed him yet another wand saying, "Seven inches mahogany."  Harry grabbed the wand and gave it a flick.  Mr. Ollivander immediately snatched the wand out of his hand, shaking his head. "You're even trickier than last time."  He handed Harry another wand with the same result; Marik shook his head again and Harry sighed.

"Mr. Ollivander could you tell the story while we search?"

The old man smiled and said, "It's Marik, and yes I'll start the telling"

            His face became closed and he said, "I suppose I should start by telling you this: your name is not just Harry James Potter; it is Harry James Evans Black-Potter.  Your mother's parents were the squib children of dying pureblood families.  Their names were Frederick Evans and Rose Mandolin.  Rose had been married before and widowed for about a year before she met Frederick.  Her first marriage was to a Muggle and it produced your aunt Petunia.  After he died, she met and fell in love with Frederick.

"It is very rare for Squibs to meet each other after they have been exiled from their families.  Though in all fairness, their exile was a self imposed one.  Though again, in all fairness, they had little choice, for squibs are often ridiculed.  After Frederick and Rose's secret was discovered, all of their friends abandoned them.

"Anyway, after they married, Lily was born.  And, of course, being a baby and Frederick's blood daughter, she received a bit more attention than Petunia.  It is from this that I believe your aunt's hatred of magic originates.  You can imagine how pleased they were when they found that their daughter was a witch."

Harry nodded and felt the faint stirring of pity for Aunt Petunia.  "That explains the Evans, but how do you explain the Black?"

Olli…Marik smiled at his impatience and said, "I'll get to that soon; I have to finish with your mother's story first.  Now where was I?  Ah yes.  Your mother's parents raised her to believe that she was Muggle born, so she was surprised when, after they died, she received a letter telling her she had pureblood grandparents and that they had left her everything, including a few rather large Castles."

He paused and seeing Harry's impatience said, "Yes, yes, on to the Blacks.  You know that your father and Sirius Black were close friends, right?"  He barely waited for Harry's nod before continuing.  "At the end of their seventh year at Hogwarts, they conducted a ritual which bonded them by blood and Magic.  It literally made them brothers.  In all senses, they were brothers when the ritual was completed…much to the displeasure of Sirius's mother, I might add.  She even came in here to ask me if there were any way she could possibly break the bonding.  I could not, of course.  The ceremony requires two witnesses; I believe they were Remus Lupin and your mother.  So it was a witnessed "birth," after which Sirius became the next heir to the Potters after James and James became the next heir to the Blacks after Sirius."

Harry interrupted, "Why didn't they bond with Professor Lupin?  And why was Sirius's mum upset?"

"To answer your first question: The bonding of blood would have made the other two werewolves.  And to answer the second: Sirius's mother didn't like the fact that James's family had a history of consorting with Muggles."

Harry thought for a second and asked, "So why haven't I heard of any of this?"

The answer was one word, but it spoke volumes: "Dumbledore."

"I see, but I've seen my birth certificate, and it doesn't say either 'Evans' or 'Black,'" Harry said, puzzled.

"I imagine that the certificate that the Muggles had was a false one given to your aunt by Albus."

Harry nodded and asked, "How do you know all this?"

"I am the official record keeper of the wizarding community of Britain.  I therefore know everything about all British Witches and Wizards, be they Muggle born, Half Blood, New Blood, Old Blood, or Ancient Blood."

"What are those?" Harry asked.

"What are what?"

"The last three you mentioned: 'New Blood,' 'Old Blood,' and 'Ancient Blood.'"

Marik looked at him in surprise for a few moments.  Then he shook his head ruefully and answered, "'New blood' refers to pureblood families that are two hundred to three hundred years old, 'Old Blood' refers to families one thousand to one thousand, five hundred years old, and 'Ancient Blood' is even older.  All of your families are ancient.  The Evans family originates in Ireland.  They were among the first of the ancient Druids.  The Potters first lived in the north lands among the Germanic Hordes.  Later they came down as War Mages for the Vikings raiders.  The Blacks originated somewhere in Greece.  They have been around almost as long as the Evans family and slightly longer than the Potters.  There are only a few ancient pure blood families left.  Mine, of course, is one, as is Dumbledore's, the Longbottoms's, and a few others."

Marik paused.  He had just noticed that he had run out of wands to have Harry try.

He said to Harry, "I don't have anymore phoenix wands, except…."

His eyes darted toward the window.

"Wait here."

He walked toward the window and picked up the wand lying on the cushion.  He rushed back to Harry and handed him the wand, saying, "Here.  Try this one."

Harry picked up the wand and felt a surge of power.  In his pocket his wand shot off a stream of crimson sparks, and when Harry took it out, he felt it vibrating.  He pressed the tip of his wand to the tip of the new one.  Silver and gold sparks shot out of them and Marik clapped.

"Curious," he said.  "Curious indeed."

Harry asked him, "What's curious this time?"

"Harry, the wand you now hold in your hand was the first wand my family ever made.  It is made from the wood of a Manaris tree, the tree of magic.  It was the last bit of wood from the last tree of magic, and it was the only wand that never worked in my ancestor's hand.  It's curious because your wands are made of the Tree of Life and the Tree of Magic.  Very curious indeed."

"I admit it's curious, but something just occurred me."

"What's that?"

"You still haven't told me what a warlock is."

Marik smiled and continued his explanations: "A warlock nowadays is any wizard.  However, the term used to apply only to a wielder of wild magic, the magic that can't be touched by just one wand.  The ancient warlocks usually had a wand and then a focus so that their wand could access their magic.  But since you are a powerful warlock, you need to have two wands because the magic is too diverse in nature ever to be truly successful.  In fact, you'll find that your magic will improve when you use two wands, one for some subjects the other for other subjects."

Harry still looked puzzled and asked, "Why now?  Why not when I first came in?"

"When you first came in, your magic was diverse, but it was also small.  Magic is a lot like the vessel that contains it.  It grows bigger and changes as you get older."  He paused and smiled.  "You've noticed in the past few years that your magic is often small or it is too large—that the simplest spell is sometimes overdone or too weak?"

Harry thought for a moment and then nodded, and Marik continued, "As you go through puberty, so does your magic.  That you now need two wands is evidence that your magical maturation is complete.  It will grow still more as will your body, but as of now it is as "matured" as it's going to get."

The explanation left Harry even more confused, but he decided to shrug it off.  After all, he needed two wands.  It didn't matter why.  And Marik had said that he would be better at magic. If Harry was to defeat Voldemort, he needed to be strong and better in magic.  That thought led to another one: "Is Voldemort a Warlock?"

Marik thought for a moment before responding, "His blood it old enough for it, but he never needed a second wand, so he might just have a focus.  Or he might not be.  He is extremely powerful, whatever the case, so always be wary."

Harry nodded.  As if he didn't know!

"I still don't understand about wild magic.  There has to be more to it or else there would be Warlocks everywhere."

Marik nodded again and said, "I'll explain about your magic when I start teaching you."

"You're going to be teaching me?"

"Yes I am."

"But we aren't allowed to use magic outside of school."

Marik smiled mysteriously.  "In a few days _all_ Hogwarts students will be receiving notices from the ministry telling them they can use magic."

Harry grinned.  "When'll we start?"

"Day after tomorrow.  You'll be staying with me until we get you trained.  I'll floo Tom and tell him to have your things brought over."

Harry accepted this with a nod and asked, "Why can't we start tomorrow?"

"Because tomorrow you're going to Gringotts so we can make you a family tapestry."

Harry nodded his acceptance and yawned.  "Could you please show me where I'll be sleeping?"

Marik nodded and motioned for Harry to follow.  He led Harry into the back, and, looking around, Harry was amazed by the size of it.  He told Marik so and Marik looked at him as if to say, "You're really stupid," but he only said that even Wand Makers deserved to sleep.

Finally Harry entered his room.  Unsurprised to find Hedwig on the perch by the window, and stopping only to take off his shoes, he fell into bed.


	3. Gringotts part 1

Disclaimer: I make no money from this and I do not own anything related to Harry Potter.  J.K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and Bloomsbury publishing own Harry Potter.  So don't sue me, please.

Italics are thoughts Italics in "Quotes" are parsletounge 

            "Just remember what I told you and you'll do fine."

Harry nodded, not really sure.  He still didn't quite believe that he was a pureblood, but Marik said that he needed to get certain family heirlooms from Gringotts to make the Family Tapestry.  His thoughts traveled along this vein for a while and then suddenly it hit him: _Gringotts!_

"Marik, how am I supposed to get into the vaults without the key?"

Marik looked surprised.  "Oh! That's right, hold on just a minute."  With that, he ran out of the room.

            He returned a short while later, a small book with purple binding resting in his arms.  He was smiling.

"I found it," he stated simply.

"Um, what exactly did you find?"

"This," said Marik, shoving it into his hands.

Harry looked at the cover.  On it was a peculiar design that looked a lot like a pentagram except that the point on the right side was reversed, facing in and stopping just short of the left point.  Harry looked at the symbol, puzzled.  The book was obviously magical; that was easy to discern from the mere fact that the aforementioned symbol seemed to make sense, whereas if Harry had tried to draw it, he knew, it would end up looking horribly messy and jumbled.  He puzzled over this for a few seconds before shaking his head.  Magic could do anything.

            "So what does this have to do with anything?"

Marik looked shocked for about a minute, but then he shook his head.  "Of course you wouldn't know," he stated simply and then proceeded to explain.  "The symbol on the front is the sign of the Goblin High Counsel.  The book has been charmed so that if you press the symbol to your forehead and say the password, "Flesh withers and dies, but gold lasts forever," you immediately absorb the information in the book, which, conveniently, includes the goblin language, Goblin law, and the original Gringotts charter."

"And how will this help?"

"The goblins will make you go through a magical identity search to ensure that you are actually Harry J.E. Black-Potter."

"But why do I need to know the language?"

"To make them comfortable around you."  He paused, gazing at Harry significantly.  "You'll need to know the charter so that you can claim your property, and the head Goblins only speak Gobbledegook, so you'll need to know the language to speak to them."

Harry was a bit unsettled, but he shrugged it off.  He was willing to do this, especially since, according to Marik, once he finally had all of his inheritance, he could do a lot more things publicly. Marik had even gone so far as to tell Harry that, with his ascension into power, he would have the power to have Fudge expelled from the ministry.  This idea had made him feel a bit better about it.  Plus, he could learn more about his family, which, much to Marik's displeasure, he knew next to nothing about.  After Marik had discovered this, he was adamant that Harry go to Gringotts to get the heirlooms needed to make a Family Tapestry.  _Speaking of which…_

"What heirlooms do I need to get?"

Marik smiled mysteriously and said, "You'll know which ones."

Harry glared at the old man.  _Do wizards naturally start to talk in riddles as they get older?_  Harry just shook his head and said, "So all I need to do is press the book to my head, say the magic words, and then I'm off to Gringotts?"

Marik nodded and Harry, feeling quite silly, pressed the book to his forehead, a little to the side of his scar and said, "Flesh withers and dies, but gold lasts forever."  There was suddenly a feeling as if someone was trying to shove a brick into his brain.  Then, just as quickly as it had happened, the pain faded away and Harry was left clutching his forehead.  The book lay on the floor where he had dropped it.

Marik looked at Harry apologetically and said, "I'm sorry.  I forgot how much instantaneous learning hurts.  Has the pain gone away yet?"

Harry nodded distractedly.  He was reviewing all of the thing he had just learned.  Confused when he couldn't find the language, he asked Marik, "Are you sure that the language is in the book?"

Marik nodded.  "It'll only come to you when you talk to a goblin or to another person who understands true Gobbledegook."

"What do you mean by 'true' Gobbledegook?  Is there a false Gobbledegook?"

Marik smiled: "The Gobbledegook that most people can speak is actually a code language invented during the Goblin civil war.  Apparently it was easier to understand than the actual language of Gobbledegook."

Harry smiled and said, "So I just go to Gringotts and demand an audience with the Head Goblins?"

Marik smiled back, his eyes gleaming with humor: "Yes, and I'm sure that it is just as hard as it sounds."

Harry nodded: "Okay I go and get the heirlooms, and I'm supposed to know what heirlooms to take even without ever seeing them and with no help from you whatsoever?"

Marik nodded: "Precisely."

Harry snorted and said, "You're mad."

"That is a possibility."

Harry rolled his eyes.  "I'm going now; I'll be back soon."

"Oh, take your time.  I have to go and yell at an old friend so don't hurry."

Harry nodded and walked out the front door to the crowded street of Diagon Alley.

            Albus Dumbledore was in a state of panic.  He didn't know how Harry had gotten to Marik's shop, but now the wards around his home were gone.  He needed to be shipped back so that they could reinstate the protections that had been shattered by his leaving.  Dumbledore had been pacing for hours trying to come to grips with this new information.  _Harry is a warlock.  He needs two wands, which means that he's coming into his matured stage.  What happens when he finds that I've been hiding more things from him?_

He was still pacing when the fire got bigger, so he didn't notice the form of a very angry wizard coming out of the fire.  Due to his lack of perception, he soon found himself bound and lying on the floor.  He glanced up and saw that Marik was smiling at him rather sadistically.

"Did you know that Harry knows practically nothing about our people?"  Marik frowned and lifted Albus up in the air so that they were face to face.  "Did you know that he knows next to nothing about his family?"  He smiled rather unbecomingly.  Anger was evident in his eyes.  "We will be having a discussion on the necessity of informing students about themselves."  He smirked at Dumbledore: "I suggest that you get comfortable."

            Harry walked into Gringotts.  Apprehensively, he stepped into the line and waited.  And waited and waited and waited.  Unsurprisingly, when he finally got to the booth, he was a bit strung out.  He walked up to the goblin nervously and was somewhat relieved when he recognized the goblin.

"Hello Griphook," he said pleasantly.

The Goblin looked startled: "Do I know you sir?"

Harry smiled and said, "You probably don't remember me, but you drove the cart down to my vault my first time in Gringotts."

Griphook scrunched up his face: "I'm afraid I don't recognize you, sir."

Harry lifted his bangs.  "I'm Harry Potter."

Griphook nearly fell out of his chair.  "Of course! I remember now.  You came in with that big fellow, Hag beard or some such."

Harry smiled: "Actually it's _Hagrid_, but you were pretty close."

Griphook smiled back.  "So, Mr. Potter, What can I do for you?"

Harry's smile drooped a bit.  "I'd like to see my family vaults."

Griphook nodded in a sympathetic way and said, "Key please."

Harry looked at him and said in the exact tone that Marik had told him to use, "I need no key to get into my vaults."

Griphook grinned again, this time showing off numerous needle-like teeth: "So you'll be wanting to see the bosses then?"  Harry nodded.  "This way, please." The Goblin got off his chair, opened the little doors to Harry's left, and gestured for him to follow.

            The bosses' room was a vast cavern with paintings of all sorts on the walls.  Most of them were battle scenes but quite a few of them depicted small things like flowers, gold, and decapitated heads.  Up ahead were five desks.  Seated at them were some of the largest Goblins that Harry had ever seen. The one in the middle desk spoke:

"Whom do you bring to us, Griphook?"

Griphook bowed and said, "This is Harry Potter, sirs.  He wishes to visit his family vault."

"Where is his key?"

"He says that he requires none, sir."

The Goblins chuckled, and the one farthest to the right said, "Boy, what makes you think that you don't need a key to enter a vault?"

Harry racked his brain and found the answer in the things he had learned from the book: "My blood is all that is required.  My vaults have been here since there was a here and the lock opens only to my touch."

The Goblin that appeared to be the leader, as he was in the middle and had more jewels than the rest, looked at Harry sharply and said slyly, "You speak our language well, boy.  Tell me, who taught you?"

Harry replied, "I learned it from a book."  This answer seemed to be the right one, as the Goblins started to chuckle.  The second one to the left pulled out a sheet of parchment and a knife.

 "If you would be so kind as to bleed on this parchment so that you can prove you are you and so you can prove that you need no key."

Harry took the knife and paper from the goblin's hands.  He stepped forward and set the parchment on the lead Goblin's desk.  He pricked his finger with the knife and squeezed a few drops of blood onto it.  The blood soaked into the paper and started to form words.  The Goblin took the parchment and read aloud, "Harry James Evans Black-Potter, last heir of the Potter family, last heir of the Evans Family, last true heir of the Black family.  Family vaults numbers 1,12, 23, and 46.  Personal Vaults 3121, 1243, 987, 7149, and 234."

The Goblin finished and looked at Harry with something akin to awe.  He rushed out of his chair and hurried to Harry's side.  "Mr. Black-Potter!  Forgive us for making you wait.  Is there any way we can help you?"

Harry smiled.  The Goblin's expressions were funny.  "I just need a ride down to my family vaults."

The big Goblin nodded rapidly: "Yes sir.  Is there anyone that you would like to have bring you down to your vaults or would you prefer that we choose someone?"

Harry looked at him confusedly: "I've never had a choice before; why do I have one now?"

The goblin looked nervous as he said hesitantly, "Sir, it says that one of your vaults is Vault number one.  When Gringotts was founded, the goblins gave the owner of the building and the land vault number one.  Before he died, he put all of his most valuable belongings into the vault and told us that when vault number one comes back into use, the one who is able to enter it is his rightful heir.  So, essentially sir, you own Gringotts."

Harry stared at the goblin for a minute in shock.  Surely he had not heard right.  The Goblin couldn't have just said what Harry thought he had said.

The goblin, seeing his shocked disbelief, said, "I assure you this is no joke, we have the document in a pensieve if you would like to see it."

Harry just shook his head. "I just want to retrieve a few items from my vault.  I'll come and talk to you later, ok?"  The goblins nodded their assent. "Okay, could you have Griphook take me to my vaults now?"  Again the goblins nodded and the lead one yelled loudly, "GRIPHOOK!"

Almost immediately the diminutive goblin appeared at the door.  "Yes sirs?"

"Take Mr. Black-Potter to his family vaults.  Here is the list of them."

Griphook took the sheet of parchment and glanced down.  His eyes widened and he said, "Yes, of course.  Come this way Mr. Po…Mr. Black-Potter."  He glanced at Harry fearfully.

Harry cringed and said, "Just Harry, if you please."

Griphook nodded and said, "All right, then.  This way…Harry."  He gestured for Harry to follow and walked back into the main room and through to the back of the bank.  Once there, they sat down and began their journey into the depths of Gringotts.  After they had made a good distance down into the darkness, Griphook finally had the courage to ask the question that had obviously been plaguing him: "So, you're in vault one?"

Harry just nodded.  Griphook nodded back and said, "You're full of surprises."

Harry smiled and said, "Let me assure you, it wasn't on purpose."

Griphook just nodded absently and continued to guide the cart along the track.  Harry was a bit uncomfortable in the silence, so he continued to speak. "You know, I found out just yesterday that I was a part of all these families.  Before I talked to Marik…Mr. Ollivander, I didn't know anything.  I thought that my mother was Muggle born, but then Mr. Ollivander told me she was the daughter of a couple of Pureblood squibs, and I knew absolutely nothing about my father's family."

Griphook looked a little shocked.  "You didn't know anything?"

"Nope, nothing and I didn't know any thing about the Black family either, but apparently Sirius Black and my father made a magical pact of some sort that made me his nephew or something.  That was the biggest surprise because I didn't know anything about my original families, let alone my godfather's family."  He paused and then smiled ruefully. "It's funny really.  My Aunt Petunia is the world biggest Muggle, and it turns out that she is a halfblood squib."

Griphook looked startled by the change of subject, but then he chuckled appreciatively and looked around.  The cavern had gotten a lot darker and much colder during their conversation.  They were far down in the deep now.  Griphook was the one to break the silence this time:

"Vault 46 is just around the bend.  Hold on please."

Harry grabbed the edge and was glad that he had when they came to a swerving stop.

Harry looked at the vault door.  It was a massive door of iron with nonexistent hinges.

Griphook stepped out of the cart and once again motioned for Harry to follow.  They approached the door and Griphook stepped back. "Just place your hands on the family crest and the door will open."

Harry stepped close to the door.  It was grimy from years of not being cleaned.  Harry couldn't see the crest through the filth.  "I wish Dobby were here."

Suddenly there was a large CRACK and a squeaky voice said, "You called Dobby, Sir?"

Harry twirled around.  "Dobby!  What are you doing here?"

Dobby just stared for a minute and said slowly, as if talking to a child, "Harry Potter called Dobby, so Dobby came.  What can Dobby do for Harry Potter, Sir?"

Harry recovered from the shock of seeing his small friend and said, "Well I need help.  I need to touch the crest to open the door, but I can't find the crest because the door's filthy."

Dobby smiled and said excitedly, "Harry Potter needs Dobby's help with cleaning his door?"  Harry nodded his affirmation and was surprised when Dobby's eyes started to tear.

"If you don't want to, you don't have to.  I was just thinking out loud anyway.  I didn't mean to upset you."

Dobby shook his head.  "Dobby is happy that Harry Potter wants his help.  Dobby is not upset, sir.  Dobby is happy that Harry Potter thought to call for Dobby."

Harry processed this and said, "Okay, so how much do you want to get paid for the door…wait, I have to make a few more stops; do you want to help with those too?"  Dobby nodded.  "So how much do you want to get paid?"

Dobby shook his head and said, "Dobby is not needing paying for helping Harry Potter.  Dobby is very happy to help Harry Potter."

Harry smiled and said, "Are you sure?"

Dobby nodded again, and Harry smiled wider and said gratefully, "Thanks a lot, Dobby."  Dobby smiled a toothy smile that seemed to be a trademark of the elvish race and said, "No problem, Harry Potter sir.  Would you please step back?"  Harry stepped back to stand by Griphook.  They both watched in awe as Dobby seemed to glow with magic.  Suddenly there was a flash and Dobby rushed toward the door.  Another flash and the door was shining, as Dobby stood in front of it grinning.

"Is that good, Harry Potter sir?"  Harry nodded dumbly and approached the door.

He asked, "How did you do that?"

Dobby smiled, "If wizards knew the house elf secrets, what use would they have for house elves?"  He smiled again, this time mysteriously.

Harry just shook his head and said, "Thanks Dobby."

He approached the door and saw the crest right in the center of the door. Harry looked at it closely.  He recognized the Black family crest; it was a black snake with silver diamonds on its back. Harry was about to press his hand to the door when he pulled back.  He thought he had seen the snake move; he had felt it move.  He stared at it, and then he asked Griphook, "How long since anyone has opened this door?"

Griphook stepped forward and ran his hand down the length of the door.  He stopped and he looked at Harry, puzzled.  He said, "It's been about 200 years."

Harry looked at the door, considering.  He reached to touch the serpent, but he again pulled his hand back.  He shrugged and said to the snake, "_Open."_  He was a little surprised when the snake replied, "_Yes, master."_  The door shimmered for a second, and then it disappeared.  Billowing green fog rushed out of the vault; when it faded, Harry was left staring in awe.  He glanced back and he saw expressions of awe on the goblin and the elf's faces as well.  He turned back to the vault and just looked.

The room was vast, and almost every inch was covered with gold and jewels.  There were treasure chests and huge shelves holding vast amounts of books.  Harry was particular pleased with the books; he had wanted to study the counter curses to many of the curses that Voldemort and his Death Eaters were likely to use and his school books could help only so much.

_Knowing the Black family more than half of these books are about or pertaining to the dark arts._  Harry grinned at this thought.  It was amazing that a family so obsessed with the Dark arts and with purity of blood had raised a good man like Sirius.  His eyes moistened a bit, and he wiped the tears away before they could begin to flow.  He looked around again and walked into the vault.  He walked over to the largest pile of gold and started digging through it.

Dobby asked from somewhere behind him, "What are you looking for, Harry Potter sir?"

Harry shrugged and said, "I have no clue.  I just know that I'll know when I find it."  He continued to dig.  He could hear Dobby wandering around and struggling to tidy up the piles of gold when his hand hit something.  He submerged his other hand and pulled on the object and then fell backwards, pulling the object with him.  He hit the floor with a thud and winced as an iron-wrought trunk fell on his chest.  He was a bit surprised that it hadn't damaged him when it landed, and he winced again as he pushed it off.

Sitting up, he found that the chest was very old and dented in almost all of its corners.  He sat down in front of it and was happy that the chest hadn't killed him.  It was huge!  He shook his head.  _Must have feather light charms on it. _ He looked at the chest.  It had the same crest on it as the door, so Harry spoke again: "_Open."_

The snake on the chest replied, _"How do I know that you are my master?"_

Harry asked, _"What proof do you need?"_

The snake hissed, _"A drop of blood is all I need."_

Harry groaned; what was it with blood today?  He shook his head and looked at the cut that he had given himself in the Goblin Bosses' cavern.  It was closed.  He dug around his pocket a bit until he found a quill.  He took it out and pressed it against his previous cut, cringing as the quill reopened his wound.  He dripped a few drops of blood onto the snake.  The blood disappeared into the snake.

The snake was silent for a minute and then it said, _"It is good to see you, Master."_  The chest opened, and Harry saw a shiny light.  He covered his eyes but could see sparkles through his eyelids.  When the light died down, Harry opened his eyes and gasped when he saw what was in the chest.

A sword and a dagger perfectly matched. The Sword had a blade about a yard long.  The handle was a simple one except for the snake carved into it.  The dagger had a serpentine handle and a six-inch blade.  Both of the weapons had emerald encrusted handles.

But the most amazing thing was that on the blade of the dagger was written the name _Salazar Slytherin_. 


	4. Gringotts part 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Harry Potter!  I make no money from this writing; it is purely for entertainment purposes.  Please don't sue.

_Italics are thoughts._

_Italics in "Quotes" is parsletounge_

            Harry gazed at the name imprinted on the dagger in shock.  _How can this be?  I thought that Voldemort was the heir of Slytherin.  What is the dagger doing here?  Why doesn't Voldemort have it? _ A cough interrupted his thought.  He could barely concentrate on what Griphook was saying.  It sounded like he was asking if Harry was all right.  Harry seriously thought about saying he was not all right, but he nodded instead.  Then he shook his head clear and slammed the chest closed.  He looked around, but his eyes were drawn towards the chest each time he scanned the room.  He frowned and muttered to himself, "Oh, alright."  He reached towards the box and was surprised when it sprung open.  Both the sword and the dagger flew towards his outstretched hands.  He grabbed them and felt the power emanating from them.  He was surprised at the oddly comfortable warmth that invaded his hands.

He was marveling at the weapons when he heard some odd sounds coming from them.  He leaned closer and heard voices: _"Our master holds us once more."_  This he heard from the sword.  _"Yes, our master's power is glorious," _the dagger whispered.

Without thinking, Harry asked, _"Are you talking?"_

The sword answered, _"Yes, Master we are."_

Harry was a bit stunned, but he asked, _"Why do you call me 'master'?"_

The dagger answered, _"Because you are our master.  If you use us wisely we will spill blood for you."_

_"Spill blood?"_

_"Yes master.  After all, we are weapons."_  Harry smiled: the dagger had a sense of humor.

_"Yes I can see that."_

The sword spoke this time._  "That's good.  Our last master was blind, and he blamed us for everything.  That's why we were locked in that chest.  We supposedly 'forced' him to kill the wrong person, as if it were our fault that he had bad aim."_

Harry chuckled. _"How many masters have you had?"_

_" I have had seven.  I was here first and then the fourth master brought his own blade."_

_"Who was your fourth master?"_

_"His name was Solomon Black…."_

At this point the Dagger butted in: _"He was my third master.  His grandfather, Salazar Slytherin, was my second, and his great-grandfather was my first.  I have had six masters."_

The weapons were silent for a moment, during which Harry had the impression that they were conversing to themselves.  Then after a few moments the dagger spoke, _"Where are we? This doesn't feel like the Chamber."_

Harry was surprised.  _"You've been in the Chamber of Secrets?"_

_"Of course,"_ came the reply.  _"That's where our last master found us and brought us out into the world."_

_"Oh.  You're in Gringotts.  It's the wizards bank."_

"Ah, well that explains a lot….  When you take us out of here, don't forget the chest; it has some useful things in it."

With that the blades fell silent.  _Well that was interesting, _thought Harry.  He put the weapons back into the chest.  Seeing that there was some extra space, he walked over to one of the bookshelves and picked up a few particularly evil looking books, put them in the chest, and replaced the lid.  He then picked up the chest and carried it to the door, where he stopped and said to his companions, "Let's go now, eh?"  They both nodded and, pausing only long enough that Harry could put the chest in the cart's luggage bin, they were off.

            The ride to vault 23 was a short one, and it compromised of Harry sitting in a daze thinking about the blades, Griphook muttering under his breath about "folk who were too rich for their own good, and Dobby cheering in delight whenever the cart took a sharp turn.

Harry was jerked from his thoughts when the cart pulled to a stop, and the party of three immediately jumped out of the cart.  The door of vault 23 was slightly cleaner than the door of vault 46.  Harry nodded at Dobby and the elf sprang into action, and again Harry and Griphook watched in awe as the door suddenly began to shine.

This door glowed a brilliant bronze and held the crest of one of his families.  He looked at it closely.  It was a griffin in flight, and when Harry reached out to touch it, his hand met with an inviting warmth.  He set his hand down on it, and the door melted away.  There was no fog rushing out of this one, but an aroma of flowers lingered at the doorway.  The vault was pitch black—not lighted like the other vault.  But when Harry walked in, a large number of torches suddenly sprang to life, lighting the vault.

Harry looked around.  The entire vault was filled with personal belongings: There were chariots, paintings, jewels, clothes, furniture, shelves—many full of book, and hanging on the wall exactly opposite him was a shield with a large embellished **_E_** on it.  Suddenly, Harry knew whose vault he was in.  _Evans.  My Mum's family vault._

Harry continued to gaze about as he walked towards the shield.  Right below it was a book titled _A Self-Updating Map of Wizarding Genealogy._  Harry opened the book and out fell a ring.  Harry picked up the ring and looked at it.  It was old and the design featured the thorns of one of those plants that you find on the walls of old garden estates grown to keep intruders out.  In the middle of it was the same **_E_** that the shield held.  Harry put the ring on the ring finger of his right hand.  At first it was heavy and uncomfortable, but almost immediately it molded itself to Harry's finger.  Harry felt his whole body warm up in the ring's comforting embrace, and he saw that the ring was glowing a soft shade of blue.  Harry stood there for a while enjoying the warmth.

He was startled when Griphook asked him if he had found what he needed.  He nodded and started to leave, but right before he reached the door he turned around, walked back to the genealogy book, and picked it up.  The book might come in handy.  Then he walked back to the cart, put the book in the chest, and sat down.  The other two followed his lead, and soon they were again speeding off into the depths of Gringotts.

            Almost immediately the cart stopped.  Harry looked around and saw the largest door yet.  This one was completely clean and it glowed in the lamplight so brightly that Harry needed to shield his eyes.  He got out of the cart and approached the door.  Still shielding his eyes, he found the crest.  On it was a massive lion, on the forehead of which stood a **_P_**.  Harry set his hand down on it.  Nothing happened.  Behind him, Griphook coughed.

"Sir, you might try putting your wand on it."

Harry looked at him and then turned back to the door.  He reached into his pocket and extracted both of his wands.  Placing one of them in his left hand, he pressed both against the lion.  He jumped back when he heard a roar, and he watched as the door melted away.

            The sight that greeted him struck him completely dumb.  The Potter Family Vault was filled with…everything!  Hanging from the roof were flags of forgotten countries, there was gold and silver lying all about, and Harry was stunned at the number of weapons.  Harry gathered his courage and entered the vault.  Among all of these treasures, where was he to find the Heirloom?  He wandered around a while, hardly aware of his companions trailing him.  He was gazing at a particularly stunning moving tapestry of a unicorn when a chest caught his eyes.  It was old and plain, but Harry could feel the power emanating from it like something tangible.  He moved to open it, but then paused.  If this contained any more surprises than the other chest had carried, he didn't want to open it in the caverns of Gringotts.  He picked up the chest.  It was heavy, but not any more than his school chest.  He carried it to the cart, closely followed by the other two, and they set off once again.

            Harry was puzzled by the lack of vaults, but when he asked about it Griphook refused to answer.  Curiosity aroused, Harry pointed out that he was supposedly the owner of Gringotts.  Griphook paused, his face unreadable, and said, "Vaults 2 to 9 are Gringotts' personal fortune; they are hidden from view."

Harry nodded, curiosity sated, and thought no more of it.

            The ride seemed very long, and Harry was getting tired of being awed.  But then they turned a corner, and Harry nearly jumped out of the cart.  Standing in front of the doors before them were two very alert Dragons.  They stared at the cart as it approached, and when Griphook stopped the Dragons stepped forward.  The green one said, "**WHO ARE YOU**?"  Its voice echoed in the cavern.

Griphook winced and said, "Begging your pardon, but this is the Heir."

The dragons looked at each other and the red one boomed, "**ARE YOU SURE?" **

Griphook nodded, and the two dragons stepped aside.  Harry whispered to Griphook "How did they talk?"

Griphook smiled and said, "They were once goblins who lived during the great Human-Goblin war.  Some fool wizard transfigured them when they came to attack.  Naturally the wizard was roasted.  Later on when Goblin-Wizard relations became better, they tried to transfigure them back, but to no avail.  It was discovered later that they were very long living."

Harry absorbed this new information and asked, "Is that where the legends of dragons that horde gold comes from?"

Griphook chuckled, "Yep."

Harry smiled and asked, "How many are there?"

Griphook thought for a minute: "About fifty-two.  They mate though, so sometimes it changes."

"They Mate?" Harry asked incredulously.

Griphook chuckled again.  "Of course.  How else do you think they have survived the past one thousand years?"

"They're a thousand years old?"

"Give or take a century."

"Wow."  Dobby nodded his agreement.

Harry looked at the door.  "Griphook, why aren't we getting any closer to the door?"

Griphook looked surprised.  "Of course!  Harry would you please command the door to come here?"

Harry looked at Griphook.  "What?"

"Call the door.  All you have to do is command it to come."

Harry didn't think it would work, but who was he to argue with a Goblin?

"Door, Come Here."

The door, surprisingly, did.  Harry blinked in surprise.  They were now right in front of the door.  It was an ancient door covered in runes, and when Harry approached, it split in half and then into fourths and then sunk completely into the floor.  Harry entered.

He stood in a library filled with maps, chests, and books.  The books amazed Harry; his love of books wasn't as obsessive as his friend Hermione's, but growing up in the Dursley's household he had oftentimes found his only escape in books.  And these books were of all types.  As he browsed through the shelves, he saw books on philosophy, astronomy, herbology, medicine (though these looked a bit outdated), and, of course, books on magic.

Harry's reverie was broken by the sound of a rather high-pitched scream.  He looked up just in time to see Griphook fly backward.  A yellowish glow emanated from the space between the doorframes.  He saw Griphook get up and shouted, "Are you okay?"

Griphook glared at the door and nodded.

"Good."  Then Harry continued his exploration of the room.

He opened a random trunk and found it empty.  He picked it up and started putting interesting looking books inside.  He put in potion books, spell books, books on rare creatures, and even a few history books, but his greatest find also happened to be the heirloom he felt calling him.  It was a silver covered book with powerful spells inside.  Harry recognized a few of them: the Fidelius charm, the killing curse, and the Anti-Apparition ward, just to name a few he recognized.  He couldn't read the inscription on the cover because it was in another language, but Harry thought that it might be the same language that Hermione studied in ancient runes.  The book made him curious enough that he decided to buy a book on ancient runes the next day.

Finally, Harry walked out of the vault, and they started their journey back to the surface, stopping briefly at each of the private vaults, wherein Harry found a gargantuan amount of gold Galleons, silver Sickles, and bronze Knuts.  After refilling his moneybag from the gold in his old vault, he also stashed some in his trunks.  The blades were not happy with having coins heaped on them and were very vocal in their protests.

            Back at the entrance, Harry worried briefly about how he was going to carry the chests, but was much relieved when Dobby levitated the chest and asked where they were going.  They left Gringotts with the chests hovering about ten feet over Harry's head.  The sight of a house elf and the trunks caused some commotion among his fellow pedestrians, especially when they noticed Harry.  He was worried that they would start a full scale riot, so he was much relieved when they reached Ollivander's.

"This is it, Dobby."

Dobby used his magic to open the doors and levitated the chests in.  Marik, who was sitting behind the counter, jumped up in surprise when he saw the hovering chests.  He was even more surprised when he saw that Harry had a house elf accompanying him.  Harry hastened to make introductions.

"Dobby, this is Marik.  Marik, this is Dobby."

Marik reached out his hand.  "Ah yes, I've heard all about you from Albus.  He speaks highly of you."

Dobby's eyes started to tear.  "Professor Dumbledore is a great wizard."  He took Marik's hand and smiled toothily.  "You are a great wizard too, but Dobby knew that any friend of Harry Potter would be."

Marik reddened a bit and said to Harry in an undertone, "Thinks a lot of you, doesn't he?"

Harry nodded fervently and spoke to the elf: "Dobby, I might need help with some more cleaning later on; would you like to help?"

Dobby smiled again, and his eyes began to water even more.  "Harry Potter is the kindest, most generous, most gracious, most…"

Harry cut him off: "Is that a yes?"

Dobby nodded rapidly.  "Oh, yes sir!"

Harry smiled and said, "Thanks Dobby.  See you, then?"

Dobby nodded again and with a CRACK he was gone. Harry turned around and saw the older man's amusement.  "Shut up Marik."  He picked up the trunks one by one and set them down on the counter.

"Now," he said, "Let's get started." 

Review! Tell me what you think!


	5. The Tapestry and Marks, Part 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, though I wish I did.  (Oh, come on: you know you wish you did, too!)

Authors Notes: This is a short chapter, and for that I…LAUGH IN YOUR FACES! HAHAHAHA! Please enjoy!

"Now," he said, "let's get started."

Marik nodded and looked inquiringly at Harry's newly acquired trunks: "What's in them?"

"Well, sir, the chest with the snake lock holds two blades, and if the blades are to be believed some other valuable things.  This one has a bunch of books I put in it.  I don't know what's in the other trunk; I haven't opened it yet.  And I also have this," he said, showing Marik the Evans family ring.

Marik nodded and asked for Harry to look at the other heirlooms while he went to collect the necessary items, but Harry had already begun to open the Potter chest and paid no heed as Marik left the room.

Harry looked at the lock on the trunk; it was in the shape of a hawk, which, when Harry touched it, seemed to spread its wings and cause the chest to click open.  He lifted the lid and gasped.  Inside the chest, stacked to the rim, were glittering invisibility cloaks.  He gazed at the chest in awe for a few moments, shook himself, and then reached down into the chest.  He felt for the bottom and had his arm all the way in up to his shoulder before he finally found it.  He rifled through the cloaks until his hand encountered a hard object.  Reaching in his other arm, he grasped the object with both hands and lifted it out.

He was surprised to find that it was another chest, though significantly smaller.  It was approximately ten inches wide and about six inches tall.  The lock was shaped like a wolf, golden and so finely detailed that it appeared almost alive.  Harry reached out to touch it, and when he did the wolf lifted its muzzle as if to howl and the chest sprang open.  He peered inside.  It looked like a dark portal, absorbing the light as it did.  Harry stuck his finger in and was surprised when he encountered a silky substance.  He grasped the substance carefully and pulled it out.  It appeared to be a hooded cloak.  He shook it out and heard something CLUNK on the floor.  Harry looked down and saw a ring of keys, which he picked up and examined.  The biggest one had a **_P_** embossed on it; the rest had words like "Cellar" and "Attic" and "Master bedroom" and, oddly enough, "Bathtub Facet."

Harry placed the keys by the chests and again puzzled over the cloak, wondering what magic powers it could have.  After all it had been in a trunk filled with invisibility cloaks.  That brought Harry's thoughts back to the cloaks.  _I thought invisibility cloaks were rare; how did so many end up in a single chest?_  Harry shook off the thought and set the cloak by the keys.

He then turned again to the Serpent chest and commanded it to open.  When it did, Harry shoved aside the gold and brought out the blades, which hissed their displeasure.  Harry grinned.  He asked the sword, _"What did you mean by 'useful items' in the chest?" _ The sword replied, _"Look under the false bottom; it would be easier if you hadn't covered us with gold." _ Harry smiled and reached back into the chest.  He dug his fingers into the false bottom and lifted it just a bit.  Reaching under with his other hand, he encountered an object.  When he pulled it out, he found himself gazing at an amulet with an odd design—a snake eating its own tail.  It looked extremely old and it emanated power.  Harry put it on, only to feel the same warmth that he had felt when he put on the Evans ring.

After a moment, he turned back to the chest, took out the book on family genealogy, and closed the chest back up.  He then opened the last chest and retrieved the silver covered book.  He then closed that chest as well and stacked all three of the chests behind the counter out of the way.

Harry organized all that he had put on the counter: folded the cloak, stacked the books, and laid out the blades with the keys next to them.  He then sat on the spindly chair and waited—and waited and waited.

Finally, Marik came back into the room, holding a rather large rolled up tapestry and what looked like a briefcase.  He looked at the heirlooms for a second, set the tapestry and the briefcase by the counter, and took out a wooden knife, which he gave a flick.  All of the shelves of wands vanished.

"How'd you do that?"

Marik smiled and said, "The knife is my wand."

"How can a knife be a wand?"

Marik smiled again and said, "How do you think I make the wands?"

Harry thought about that for a second and nodded; it would be more convenient just to vanish the wand core into the wand.

"Why a knife?"

"Because it is the shape of its job even if it does not do its job in such a manner as the shape dictates."

"So it performs better in the shape of a knife than it would in the shape of a regular wand?"

Marik smiled and said, "No, but as a child I thought that it did, so when it came time for my father to make my wand he put it in this shape."

Harry thought about it for a minute and said, "It was just a psychological thing?"

Marik nodded and Harry, his curiosity satisfied, shifted his attention.

"What's in there?" he asked pointing to the briefcase.

"It's the ink needed for the Marks and the tapestry."

"Marks?"

"Marks."

"For what?"

"Well, you'll need proof, won't you?" he asked.

"Proof of what?"

"Your Heritage."  Marik said this as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"I don't understand."

Marik looked at him as if he were stupid and said slowly, "They're like muggle tattoos; they'll be along your collar bone."

"I'm getting tattoos?"

"Yes, but unlike muggle tattoos they have magic properties."

"Like what?"

"Well," he began, "you'll be able to enter all of your properties without the use of a key."

"But…"

"The keys for the Potter Castle are used because the Potters, as a rule, almost never get the Marks."

"Why?"

"They don't like the Pure-Blood traditionalism.  However, I believe that the first Potter to use the keys was a bit too exuberant, as you might have noticed"—he indicated the mass of keys on the key ring—"Now, do you want me to finish explaining the properties of the Marks?"  He waited for Harry's nod before continuing: "An individual mark can also be used to summon members of the associated family, even if they themselves have no mark.  They feel a slight, but persistent pain in the region where the mark would normally be.  And of course it's an identifying mark whenever you are in the presence of a family member.  You and your family member will both feel a pain in the collar area."

"So it's like the Dark Mark?"

"The Dark Mark is branded on; the family marks are magically created or inherited and are brought to view by magic ink."

"Do you have them?"

Marik nodded and opened the top of his robe.  On his collarbone were two tattoos, which Harry recognized as runes.  He noticed that one of them was brighter and clearer than the other.  Harry asked Marik about it.

"This one," the old man responded, pointing to the colorful one, "is the Ollivander mark.  It means, literally, 'magic.'  This one is the Avion Descendant mark from my mother."  Noticing Harry's questioning gaze, he added, "It means 'birdlike,' but I don't know how that applies to me."

Blinking his owl like eyes, he continued, "But enough of that.  We had better get started.  We'll do the Family tapestry first; that way if we unearth any startling revelations, as we undoubtedly will, we'll be able to trace the family connection."

"What do you mean by 'undoubtedly'?"

Marik smiled at the annoyance in the young man's tone and said, "Your families are old ones and you are the proven heir of three…"

"Not four?"

"Four?"

"Well, I visited four family vaults, though the door of the fourth vault didn't contain any symbols that I recognized."

Marik looked kind of surprised for a minute, but then he nodded and said, "All the more reason to do the tapestry first."

Harry gathered himself and nodded: "What do we do?"

Marik smiled and said, "Help me spread the tapestry."

They set the tapestry down on the floor and spread it like a carpet.  Harry was surprised at the size of it.  He remembered that the Black family tapestry had been the size of an average tapestry.  This looked more the size of a large carpet.

When Harry asked about it, Marik seemed to search for an answer: "The Black family followed all of the old traditions including the joining…" he paused, seeing Harry's confusion, and hastened to explain, "It's a type of wedding ceremony, which involves the complete Joining of families.  In the case of the wife being the heir of her line, her family is assimilated into the husband's family.  With a non-heir, it just involves having the wife erasing her previous family ties to fully join her husband's family."  He looked at Harry to see if boy understood what he was saying.

Though Harry didn't understand very well at all, he obviously wanted to hurry the explanation along, so Marik continued: "Anyway, because the Black family followed the old traditions, the Black family tapestry only shows spouses and children of non-heir females.  For instance, I think it's safe to assume that the Black family tapestry shows Narcissa Malfoy connected to Lucius Malfoy connected to their son, right?"  Harry nodded.  " Because Narcissa married into the Malfoy family, she lost her claim on anything from the Black family, but because she was in the immediate family, the niece of the former Black family matriarch, she has a place on the tapestry—as does her mate and her child.  Her grandchildren, however, will not be on the tapestry because her grandchildren will be completely Malfoy."

Having finished, he conjured a glass of water, and Harry was left to contemplate the words in silence.  He supposed that they made sense, but Harry didn't really want to contemplate being related to the Malfoys.  He shook off his horror and waited patiently for Marik to finish his water. 

When the old man finished, he gestured with his knife-like wand, and the box flew to his feet.  He opened it and pulled out a few bottles and a spool of thread.  As he was opening the bottles and setting them on the counter, he started to explain, "The thread is charmed to absorb your blood and sew itself to form the names of your family members.  It's bewitched to be self-updating so that you don't have to do this every time you get a new family member.  These" he said pointing at the bottles, "are filled with a type of magical ink.  You'll ingest a few drops of each to expose the family marks on your collarbone."

He stood up and pointed to the top of the tapestry: "Put the heirlooms at the head of the tapestry."  Harry complied.  Then he looked toward the old man for more instructions.

"Now hold out your palms."  Again, Harry complied, though he had to bite his lip to stop from crying out.  He watched as his blood flowed down the blade and onto the tapestry.


End file.
